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If people hurried to the windows, Mr Codlin pitched the temple, and hastily unfurling the drapery and concealing Short therewith, flourished hysterically on the pipes and performed an air.
'Short's very well, and seems kind, resumed the misanthrope, 'but he overdoes it. Now I don't. Certainly if there were any fault in Mr Codlin's usual deportment, it was that he rather underdid his kindness to those about him, than overdid it. But the child was puzzled, and could not tell what to say. 'Take my advice, said Codlin: 'don't ask me why, but take it.
'I'm the sufferer, sir, in all the travelling, and in all the staying at home. In town or country, wet or dry, hot or cold, Tom Codlin suffers. But Tom Codlin isn't to complain for all that. Oh, no! Short may complain, but if Codlin grumbles by so much as a word oh dear, down with him, down with him directly. It isn't his place to grumble. That's quite out of the question.
Here he had the gratification of finding that his fears were without foundation, for the landlord was leaning against the door-post looking lazily at the rain, which had by this time begun to descend heavily, and no tinkling of cracked bell, nor boisterous shout, nor noisy chorus, gave note of company within. 'All alone? said Mr Codlin, putting down his burden and wiping his forehead.
Many a time, too, was Punch displayed in the full zenith of his humour, but all this while the eye of Thomas Codlin was upon them, and to escape without notice was impracticable. At length, late in the day, Mr Codlin pitched the show in a convenient spot, and the spectators were soon in the very triumph of the scene.
'A man of the name of Jerry you know Jerry, Thomas? 'Oh, don't talk to me of Jerrys, replied Mr Codlin. 'How can I care a pinch of snuff for Jerrys, when I think of that 'ere darling child? "Codlin's my friend," she says, "dear, good, kind Codlin, as is always a devising pleasures for me! I don't object to Short," she says, "but I cotton to Codlin."
Mr Codlin indeed required no such persuasion, as he had already eaten as much as he could possibly carry and was now moistening his clay with strong ale, whereof he took deep draughts with a silent relish and invited nobody to partake thus again strongly indicating his misanthropical turn of mind.
Overpowered by the warmth and comfort and the fatigue they had undergone, Nelly and the old man had not long taken their seats here, when they fell asleep. 'Who are they? whispered the landlord. Short shook his head, and wished he knew himself. 'Don't you know? asked the host, turning to Mr Codlin. 'Not I, he replied. 'They're no good, I suppose. 'They're no harm, said Short.
"What is the good of your adoring Wharton?" asked the professor. "Short's very good as far as he goes, but the real friend is Codlin, not Short." "I shall hate you if you always make fun of me. What do you mean by your Codlins and Shorts?" "Did you never read Dickens?" cried Strong. "I never read a novel in my life, if that is what you are talking about," answered Catherine. "Ho! Cousin Esther!
Mr Codlin would have risen to receive it, but the child hurried towards him and placed it in his hand. He stuck it in his buttonhole with an air of ineffable complacency for a misanthrope, and leering exultingly at the unconscious Short, muttered, as he laid himself down again, 'Tom Codlin's the friend, by G !
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